


Burial of the Saints

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Time is inevitable, Little One, and it's long past my time to be the driving force of the Fifth House of Betazed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burial of the Saints

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel: This story is in the same universe as [Keep It Precious](http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/tng/precious.html)  
> Spoilers: Post-series. Assume that the wedding in the movies never happened, okay? Additionally, consider all of the Lwaxana episodes from TNG and DS9 as fair game.  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Not From Around Here  
> Link to: http://sff.shatterstorm.net/   
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions &amp; AO3 only…all others ask for permission &amp; we'll see…
> 
> Disclaimer: "Star Trek: The Next Generation," the characters, and situations depicted are the property Paramount Pictures, CBS Television, and several other people or companies over the years. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Star Trek: The Next Generation," Paramount Pictures, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Prompt: _I was thought to be 'stuck up.' I wasn't. I was just sure of myself. This is and always has been an unforgivable quality to the unsure._\--Bette Davis (1908-1989), Academy-Award-winning American actress, author, co-founder and president of the Hollywood Canteen, a WWII club offering free food, drink and entertainment to men and women in all branches of the armed forces and to service people of all allied countries, and first female president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
> 
> Author's Notes: The minute I got my prompt, I knew I'd be writing for Lwaxana Troi. The prompt just screamed her name for me. Which is utterly awesome, because I simply don't write enough for her. That I inserted the Bev/Deanna relationship is just kind of a given, to be honest. Truth be told, this plot was NOT my first plot. I'd started another story a while back, but that idea just wasn't gelling for me. So, after struggling for a long time with that other plot [which will get used at some point down the line], this idea just gelled in and of itself. This was partially because of listening to Pink's "Ave Mary-A" while on a long plane trip, but moreso because of listening to the _A Perfect View_ CD by Bound For Severance, particularly the track "Burial of the Saints". At that point the story just became a frantic pounding of keys for me to get it out. The tanka that opens the story was also written by me, as it's a favorite poem form of mine, but is supposed to be attributed to Mr. Homn within the story's context.
> 
> All text in _~italics~_ denotes telepathic speech.
> 
> Timeline Notes: The basics of Deanna and Lwaxana's storylines and backgrounds from the series stands, tho' this story does combine information from the various novels and comic books, as well. The differences are that Deanna and Beverly got married in 2370 and had their daughter, Kestra Felisa Howard Troi, two years later in 2372. A year after this, Lwaxana's son was born. All of the Lwaxana background information, including the name Barin for her son, comes from [here](http://memory-alpha.org/wiki/Lwaxana_Troi) and [here](http://memory-beta.wikia.com/wiki/Lwaxana_Troi).
> 
> Dedication: My muses, for always giving me something to test my boundaries…
> 
> Beta: [](http://shatterpath.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**shatterpath**](http://shatterpath.dreamwidth.org/), as usual

"And this I give to you  
(With my hand you'll never fall)  
When this heart bleeds the truth  
(To help you see through it all)  
I'll always watch over you"  
\- "Burial of the Saints", _A Perfect View_, Bound for Severance

* * *

_The end is nearing.  
Soon enough this universe  
Will sparkle no more.  
The brightest star of them all  
Is slowly fading away._

 

Staring at the PADD, the words send a chill down my spine. This is not the kind of thing that I should be contemplating right now. List upon exhaustive list scroll past, but I barely register them: people to be contacted, complete with the various missives and letters for each; explicit details for the course of ceremony, right down to what will happen every minute from start to finish; the list of readings and dignitaries assigned to them, as well as their placement in the ceremony; the type, number, and position of every flower; what food and drinks should be served for each course of the meal following the ceremony. Mr. Homn's peculiar penchant for Terran poetic forms only brings home a sense of surrealism that could well cause a psychotic break in practically anyone else.

But not me. Not a Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Riix, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. Not the only living daughter of one Lwaxana Troi, holder of those same titles and outspoken Betazoid ambassador to the Federation. It simply wouldn't do for me to shirk my responsibilities.

With a heavy sigh, I toss the PADD onto the table and drop my head into my hands. Only a few moments of respite before returning to the exhaustive task laid out before me. If only…

"Hey you." That soft voice, combined with the gentlest of mental brushes, goes a long way to calming my frazzled nerves. Without hesitation, she pulls me into her embrace, one hand pressing my head to her shoulder before smoothing its way down my back over and over.

"I don't think I can do this." I've been having this same thought for -- hours? days? months? -- longer than I apparently can remember.

"Of course, you can," she soothes, the faintest hint of steel in her tone. "You've no more desire to screw this up than to offer yourself up to the Borg as a gift, completely naked with a ribbon tied around your neck."

Snorting at the image she's just presented me, I don't hold back as my finger pokes roughly into her side. "Be serious, Beverly. All of these endless, intricate details--"

She deftly presses a finger against my lips. "Will be worked out. Isn't that why you have me and Mr. Homn to help you? Barin's already said he's more than willing to take on some of the responsibilities, as has Kestra. Why don't you let them?"

I want to explain why this has to remain firmly on my shoulders, but a very familiar voice rings in my head, stopping my words.

_~Little One?~_

~Yes, Mother?~

Beverly must recognize the change in my demeanor that always accompanies telepathic communication with my mother. She stills briefly, waiting to see if she'll be included in this conversation, before renewing her calming techniques; as always, she will patiently wait for my explanation. The times where my mother won't include Beverly in our silent conversations are few and far between. It's something that she has learned to accept over the years.

"Dan," Barin calls from the hall. "She wants to see you. Both of you."

_~Bring the PADD, Little One.~_

A deep, fortifying breath is all I allow myself to center before grabbing said PADD and heading out to where my brother is waiting. Beverly is right behind me, taking an extra step to reach forward and grab my hand, lacing our fingers together. We head up the ornate spiral staircase, following behind young Barin, and I can't help marveling at just how much he looks like Mother, despite the telltale Tavnian physical characteristics. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think he has some of my father's genetics in him, but I know that's simply wishful thinking.

Walking into the spacious bedroom, I feel the weight of the universe settling on my shoulders once again as my eyes move from Mr. Homn's solemn face to the haggard, pale features that belong to my mother. She smiles brightly, ever mindful of an audience, even if it doesn't exactly reach her eyes, and takes in each of us. "Where is that granddaughter of mine?" she growls. "And young Wesley? When I call my family together, I expect the whole family to be here."

"Kestra's on her way, Lwaxana. In fact, Will said he's on the same shuttle with her. He made some comment about not wanting to miss the chance to see his favorite almost mother-in-law," Beverly says with a wistful smile of her own. "And I've done what I can to get in touch with Wesley, but he's not always the easiest person to track down."

Mother harrumphs at that, muttering about Will and his irreverence, and fusses at her blankets for a long moment. Motioning Barin over, she studies him for a long moment. "Barin, my heart's joy, what a handsome young man you've become over the years. And so very intelligent, just like your sister over there. Your father would be proud of you, I think."

Barin's embarrassed smile brings that delighted look to Mother's eyes that I have missed for so many years. He leans in to press his forehead to hers, eyes fluttering shut, their hands clasped between them, as they share a long silent communion that she and I have never really shared. Beverly takes this time to pull me back against her chest, arms wrapping around my waist to hold me close. She nuzzles against my hair, peppering the side of my face with tiny, loving kisses.

When Barin finally straightens again, I can see the glint of tears in his eyes. In so many ways, I envy my brother for the years he's had with our mother. Perhaps their relationship is what she and I could have had if my sister hadn't died.

_~Little One, you should know better than to dwell on what might have been.~_

It's a gentle rebuke, and brings a rueful smile to my lips, but it does the job. Barin murmurs something to Mother that I am unable to hear, before finally standing back from the bed. Bowing deeply at the waist, he pays her due reverence as a Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, then turns to offer the same bow to me, and heads out of the room. Stunned is an understatement to my emotions at this movement of his.

_~Don't be so stunned, Little One. You know that it's your right to be treated as the royalty you are.~_

"It may be my right, Mother," I reply for the benefit of my wife, "but it still is taking some time to get used to it. Particularly when it's coming from my own brother."

"Bah!" Mother replies, shifting to sit up a bit more. "You've had your entire lifetime to get used to it. You've just been a stubborn, willful thing about it ever since you were a little girl."

"Funny, Grandmother used to say the same thing about you."

Mother makes an exaggerated face at that, which causes Beverly to chuckle softly. Dark eyes fixate on my wife for a long moment before an age-gnarled hand beckons her closer. With another kiss to my temple, Beverly acquiesces and settles on the bed next to my mother. Without hesitation, her hands hover bare millimeters over the aging flesh, seeking out signs of something she can heal, make this transition easier for everyone involved.

"You know, Beverly," she replies, capturing one of my wife's hands between her own, "I'm old, not foolish. I know what you're doing and why you're doing it. I appreciate it, but my body has used up its youth and vitality. I'm ready for my deserved rest."

"Mother, stop," I plead, not wanting to be part of this conversation, even peripherally.

She pats Beverly's hand and tilts her head in that way she always does when telepathically communicating with a non-Betazoid. Even that causes me a sense of being more alone in my own mind than when I'd lost my telepathic abilities all those years ago. Beverly nods slowly, kisses her cheek, and gets off the bed; stopping in front of me, she smiles and presses a tender kiss to my lips.

_~Listen to her, Imzadi. _Talk_ to her.~_

Clearing her throat, Beverly smiles back at Mother. "I'm going to head downstairs and check on Will and Kestra's arrival, maybe make some lunch."

With that, she offers the reverent bow to Mother, squeezes my hand, and walks out of the room. Surprisingly, Mr. Homn follows after her, closing the door behind him. I stare at the door for a long moment, feeling the weight of familial obligation fall more heavily on my shoulders.

_~Come here, Little One.~_

I want to ignore her request. I want to run far, far away. I want to not have to deal with this. But I take a deep breath, turn around, and face my mother. Studying her face, I can see every moment of her life displayed for anyone to see.

"For a woman who has always prided herself on her incredibly good looks," Mother says wryly, "it's rather frightening to see me like this, isn't it? No makeup, no wig, no fancy gowns. Absolutely pathetic. What _would_ my mother say?"

Biting back a sharp laugh that instead comes out more as a strangled sob, I unexpectedly find myself stretched out next to her on the bed, face buried in the crook of her neck, tears slipping down my cheeks. Suddenly, I'm no longer the sixty-year-old Starfleet captain, wife, and mother; rather I'm reduced to the seven-year-old girl who's just lost her beloved father, seeking solace from her grieving mother.

There are words spoken in comfort and solace, both audible and telepathic, but I couldn't repeat them if my very life depended on it. Once the tears and pent-up grief have worked their way out of my system, I lay there in the circle of her arms, completely exhausted, drained. It is only then that her words begin to register in my brain.

"You know, I never wanted the responsibility of being a Daughter of the Fifth House. If my own sister had been the firstborn child, I wouldn't have the titles or duties attendant to them. Or, I wouldn't have had them for as long as I have. Just as if your sister would have this responsibility thrust upon her instead of you. I know you've never thought much of this part of your heritage."

Shifting up onto my arm, I meet her gaze directly. "That's not true. I've always had the utmost respect for our familial duties. I've already given my own Kestra all of the history and expectations for when she takes the mantle from me. I just never understood your more extraverted antics."

Mother laughs at that, a strong, delightful sound that brings a smile to my lips. "Oh, that was for show, Little One." When I quirk a brow in response, her laughter surrounds me again. "Okay, some of it was for show. But I've always known what I wanted, and I've stopped at nothing to get it. You, your sister, your brother, my granddaughter? Anything you've wanted, I have done what I could to get it for you. And all because the only thing I've truly wanted in life was your happiness, Little One. And now that you have it, I can finally rest."

That sharp stab of fear pierces my heart again, and the breath catches in my throat for a long, painful instant. The losses of both my father and son, plus the revelation of my sister's death, eat at my soul until the tears burn behind my eyelids again.

"I'm not ready for you to go, Mother," I finally whisper.

"Neither am I, Deanna," she admits in a rare moment of uninhibited honesty. "But I'm not as young as I used to be, or want to be. Time is inevitable, Little One, and it's long past my time to be the driving force of the Fifth House of Betazed. That doesn't mean that I'm going to just give up and leave without a fight. Besides, my granddaughter made me a promise that I intend to see fulfilled before I die."

It is said with such haughty conviction, I know it to be true. My mother won't leave this life until she's wrung every last drop out of it, and that's not about to happen anytime soon.

"I love you, Mother," I whisper, shifting to curl into her side again, safe in the comfort of her arms.

"I have always loved you, Little One. For so long, you were all I had, all I could rely on to be the stabilizing force in my life," she replies, just as softly, and taps a finger delicately against my chest. "And I will always be here" -- then taps my temple -- "and here, no matter what. You can't get rid of me that easily."

Secure in the knowledge that her words are spoken with somber intent, my childlike fears abate for now, there in the embrace of my beloved mother.


End file.
